


a picture is worth a thousand words

by theyoungestzerogmechanic



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, although it isn't really mentioned they're both in college, artist!Clarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 08:46:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3404420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theyoungestzerogmechanic/pseuds/theyoungestzerogmechanic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke is an art student and Bellamy is her favourite model.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a picture is worth a thousand words

After the third time Clarke glances up from her sketchbook, frowns at him and then quickly glances away again Bellamy is ready to ask what’s bothering her. 

“Clarke,” Bellamy kicks his feet off the coffee table and sets them down heavily on the floor, twisting around to look at her properly. “What’s wrong?”

Her head jerks up from her sketchbook and she stares at him with wide eyes before snapping it shut and tossing it onto the coffee table. Turning to face him she tucks her legs up underneath her.

“Nothing’s wrong. Why, what’s up?” She says a little too quickly; forcing a smile onto her face that makes him frown.

“You’re acting weird.” He tells her pointedly and she scowls at him. 

“You’re one to talk.” She snaps before letting out a sigh and flopping back onto the couch like she wishes it would swallow her whole.

“I have a big project coming up and I have a favour to ask, but I wasn’t sure if it was okay.” She says eventually, bringing a hand up to rub at her forehead.

“Clarke, I’ve modelled for you before.” He reaches over and pulls her feet across his lap. “You know I’m cool with it.”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that actually.” She moves a pillow behind her head so she can see him. “I need a naked model for this one and I wasn’t sure how you would feel about that.”

“Clarke Griffin,” Bellamy gasps, sounding scandalized and Clarke bites back a laugh. “I am a gentleman!”

“Yeah, I’m sure you are.” She says, whacking him with her foot. “I can always find someone else if you’re uncomfortable with the idea, Bellamy.”

Bellamy was her favourite model, but she could always ask one of the others to do it. They were all pretty used to Clarke asking them to pose for her while she sketched or painted something.

“It’s fine Clarke.” Bellamy rests a hand against her calf and squeezes briefly, “I don’t mind. When do you want to do this?”

“The sooner the better, we could get started tomorrow if you’re free?” She says, twisting the hem of her shirt between her fingers.

“Sure, I’m free. I’ll be here about ten?”

Clarke nods and grins at him, but the way her eyes seemed to skip over him alerts him to the fact that her mind is elsewhere.

“Earth to Clarke.” He calls, leaning over to grip her hands and pull her forwards until she falls across his lap. “What’re you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” She yelps and her cheeks flush red. “I’m just thinking about some stuff, it’s nothing important.”

“Okay,” Bellamy says in the same tone of voice he used after she’d told him it was definitely not her who had helped Octavia sneak out of the house when they were sixteen to see some band they liked play, or who had eaten the last of his mint chocolate chip ice cream. 

Clarke repositions herself so she’s more comfortably draped across him and grabs the remote from the coffee table.

“Want to watch something?” She asks, waving the remote in his face.

“Sure, but I get to pick what we watch.” He says, plucking the remote from her hands.

“Fine, but if you’re choosing I get veto power.”

“It’s a deal.” Bellamy agrees as he turned the TV on.

~

Clarke pulls open the door to her loft at five past ten the next morning and steps back far enough for Bellamy to slip past her.

“I gave you a key for a reason you know.” She says, locking the door behind him.

“Yeah, because you’re too lazy to open the door for me when I drop by.” He teases, shedding his coat and handing her one of the coffees from the cardboard tray he’s balancing.

“Thank you, Bellamy.” She says, taking a sip before turning and disappearing into the spare-bedroom-turned-art-studio where she did all her work.

He stands there like an idiot until she pops her head back around the corner and frowns at him.

“Are you coming or not, Blake?” She asks; eyebrows raised as he shoots her a sheepish smile and steps into her studio.

“Where do you want me?” He asks her, shedding his winter coat and ignoring the blush that stains her cheeks at the question.

“Over there.” She gestures towards the chaise set back in one corner of the room and sits at her workbench rummaging through her collection of paints. “You can leave your clothes on the bench.”

Bellamy follows her instructions, tugging his shirt over his head and folding it neatly before setting it on her work bench while Clarke pretends she isn’t watching him out of the corner of her eye.

Setting her things down on the table beside her easel she turns to face him, keeping her eyes on his face.

“Sit back,” She orders, stepping forwards until she’s in his space. She reaches towards him and then stops. “May I,” She waves her hand in his direction and the corner of his lips curl up into a smile.

“Go ahead, Princess.”

She blushes again and presses her fingertips gently into his shoulder, pressing until he moves backwards and leans against the arched back of the chaise.

“Drape your arms along the back and lay this leg along the edge,” She taps one of his thighs and he does what she tells him. “Your other foot needs to stay flat on the ground.”

Clarke steps back from him; some of her shyness leaving her and she takes in the scene.

“Everything okay there, Princess?” Bellamy asks when she frowns.

“Not quite,” She steps closer again, moving forwards until she is standing in-between his legs and leaning over him. She reaches over, not asking for permission this time, and cards her fingers through his hair, face scrunched up in concentration. “Better.”

His eyes followed her as she crossed the room and screws the caps off her jars of paint.

“I’m going to need to take some reference photo’s first, Bell.” She says, grabbing her bulky camera down from a shelf.

“That’s fine, Clarke.”

Bellamy stares past her and reads the titles of the books on the bookshelf behind her while she takes her pictures, tuning out the click and the flash of light that accompanied them.

“I’m done. Thank you again for doing this, Bellamy.” Clarke tells him. She picks up a brush, stares at it and then puts it down and picks up another one.

“I’ve told you before; it’s not a problem Clarke.”

She shrugs. “Well, thanks anyway.”

~

“Okay, you can get dressed now.” Clarke says, smiling at him as she places the caps back on her jars of paint and starts cleaning off her brushes.

Bellamy stands and moves to pull his clothes on, choosing not to mention the smudge of paint along her cheek. 

“Is it done?” He asks curiously and Clarke shakes her head.

“Na, but I figure that you’ve sat still long enough for one day. It just needs a few touch ups which I can do later.” Her braid has streaks of paint in it as well. Bellamy is almost impressed with the amount of paint she always manages to get all over herself whenever he models for her.

“Want to go out for dinner?” He asks her, pulling his shirt back on and leaning against her workbench.

“Sure,” She sets her armful of paints down beside him, “Let me change.”

Clarke glances up at him and he reaches out, swiping his thumb across her cheek and showing her the blue paint on it.

“I think a shower is probably a good idea.” He tells her and she bites at her lip.

“It probably is.” She says, and then she’s up on her toes and kissing him. 

One hand moves to rest against the small of her back to keep her balanced and the other comes up to cup her cheek. Her tongue is running along his teeth and the hand that isn’t holding onto his shoulder for balance tugs at his hair.

Clarke pulls away first, pupils blown, and grins at him.

“So, want to go and take that shower?”

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [theyoungestzerogmechanic](http://theyoungestzerogmechanic.tumblr.com), feel free to drop by and chat.


End file.
